


Burn Through the Dark

by Galleywinter



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:21:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25986541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galleywinter/pseuds/Galleywinter
Summary: Companion pieces to particular chapters of A Prayer You Can Borrow - different perspectives of moments already experienced. WIP, tags to be updated as more content is added.
Relationships: Varian Wrynn/Camdyn Morris, Varian Wrynn/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [A Prayer You Can Borrow](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8559109) by [Galleywinter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galleywinter/pseuds/Galleywinter). 



> In the comments for chapter 14 of A Prayer, a reader asked me if chapter 15 might be essentially the end of 14 from Varian's point of view. I said that wasn't my intention, but that I did have a few pieces like that over on my tumblr and that I could post them here if there was interest. At least three people reached out to me and said they would be. So here we are!
> 
> I don't have pieces like this for every chapter, nor do I intend to. But I agree with the original commenter that there are times it's warranted. That's what you'll find here.
> 
> Of story note for this chapter: I am going with my timeline that I cobbled together over a decade ago from Blizzard’s dried-spit-and-scotch-taped-together lore. In my timeline, the Dark Portal opens the year Varian is 9. Stormwind falls when he is 10. His mother, in the lore at that time, was *heavily* implied via total absence to have died when he was small. I also named her before Blizzard canonized “Taria” as her name, and I liked my name better. I make no apologies (though I do have a full explanation on my tumblr that I can link to if anyone wants that).

Mia Greymane marches through the corridors of the private residence wing of Stormwind Keep. Behind her, a young red-headed page trails haplessly behind, wringing his hands and calling out to her every few meters.

“Your Majesty,” he pleads again, “I beg of you please stop. King Varian told us he was not to be interrupted until midday. It isn’t yet breakfast.”

The poor boy is so earnest, so desperate, that it does cause her a moment’s hesitation. She turns to face him, and he nearly stumbles to his knees. He looks so like her Liam it makes her heart ache, all red hair and wide green eyes, and it takes a minor effort not to pat his head maternally. “Are you so terrified of your king?” she asks.

“N-no, Your Majesty,” he stammers as he drops into a brief bow. The poor thing is so nervous she makes a mental note to discuss it with Varian later. “It’s just-”

“You don’t have to bow again,” she whispers, attempting to be reassuring. “Once was enough.”

The page blinks at her, wringing his hands again. “Yes, Your Majesty,” he says before continuing. “I’m not afraid of King Varian, Your Majesty, it’s just that he so very rarely demands time that we all tend to be very protective of it. Ma'am.” His head jerks as he clearly fights the urge to bow.

“That’s commendable,” she says gently. “But I will be speaking with him. Immediately. Which room is his?”

“At the end of the hall, Your Majesty. Next to the portraits of King Llane and Queen Neasa. But-”

At the far end of the corridor, Mia can see Llane and Neasa smiling serenely down from either wall. Mia’s heart squeezes a little at the faces of her dear friends. So many years they had been gone, but she can still hear Neasa’s laugh as if she were in the next room. Varian had been robbed, in Mia’s opinion, of never being able to truly know his mother. He was Llane’s son, to be sure, but so many facets of his personality remind Mia of Neasa that it aches.

Life was often unkind to the Wrynn family. But that was why the Light placed so many good people in their path. And that was why she was here, now. To hopefully right a wrong before it had occurred. For both Varian’s sake, and for Anduin’s.

Without hesitation, she raises her hand to the oaken door just past Llane’s portrait and knocks twice. Behind her, the page begins muttering what sound like prayers.

Just as she’s on the verge of knocking again, the handle turns. “I was implicitly clear-” Varian growls as the door begins to open.

“So I’ve been told,” she says calmly.

The door swings wide, Varian standing squarely in the frame. Mia watches with contained amusement as agitation bleeds from his features, the knot of his brow unfurrowing and his shoulders relaxing. He looks past her to the boy, whose gaze she can feel against the back of her head. The soft scrape of skin against skin as his palms pass over his fingers redoubles.

“I’m sorry, Your Majesty,” he stammers, “but Her Majesty-”

“I insisted on speaking with you,” she says to Varian, interrupting the page. “The poor boy tried to stop me, but I persisted.” A frown begins creeping back over Varian’s features. Her next words would need to be carefully chosen: a delicate approach would serve her best here, she knows. “Given that the matter at hand is quite urgent, I pray that you will forgive both my poor etiquette and disregard for your instructions.”


	2. Chapter 2

Varian watches the door close behind Count Erlgadin, finally bringing an end to one of the most arduous meetings he’d had with the House of Nobles since perhaps the battle of wills he’d engaged in with them over the Defias.

At least this battle, he’d won.

“That went better than I expected.” Anduin’s expression is placid, but his voice is wry.

Varian snorts a chuckle and reaches for the declaration where it lays before him on the table. The blue wax affixed to the bottom of the parchment, still wet enough to gleam, catches the sunlight flooding in from the windows as he picks it up. “It certainly _went_.”

 _Regency_. It still sits heavily in his gut, but not as heavily as the idea of abdication had as much as he’d come to accept it. Concern for his people still looms in the recesses of his mind, a tinge of fear for his son, but that would have come all the same, he knows. With luck, the citizens of Stormwind would accept this decision as the House of Nobles eventually had. Though he prays that acceptance will come with much less yelling and futile, petty attempts at strong-arming.

He and Anduin have only just stood from their chairs when a loud knock sounds against the heavy door. A quick glance from the corner of his eye shows Anduin to be just as confused as he, and a momentary spark of agitation at the prospect of it being Vanyst attempting to further amend the declaration ignites in his chest and makes his jaw clench. "If that’s Vanyst,“ he growls before raising his voice. "Enter.”

Winoc steps into the room, looking slightly more self-assured than he had trailing behind Mia Greymane hours before. He sketches a stiff bow, then says simply, “Your Majesty, Your Highness, Paladin Camdyn Morris is here and requesting an audience.”

The tension unwinds from Varian’s jaw even as a knot builds in his gut. He hadn’t expected her back with a report so soon.

“Send her in,” is his only reply as he lays the declaration back upon the table. Before he can move to sit, Winoc has already slipped back through the door and returned, leading Camdyn into the hall.

The sight of her makes Varian’s breath lock in his lungs. Her right arm is exposed, her armor missing from rerebrace to gauntlet, a strip of skin wrapped around her bicep red and angry, threatening to blister; a small sheath strapped to her right boot sits empty; her hair is bedraggled; the skin under her eyes purple and drawn. Beyond even that, her hammer is missing, and Ashbringer sits on her hip.

A heaviness settles in Varian’s gut as he waves Winoc from the room. This news will be grim, and certainly not for anyone else’s ears. Not yet.

Camdyn fidgets uneasily as the door closes behind Winoc. Emotions flicker over her face - sorrow, fear, hesitation, concern - before she licks her lips and takes a steadying breath.


End file.
